


Woof!

by mrua7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Murder Mystery, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Napoleon gets involved in a good old fashioned murder mystery with a new partner.





	1. Chapter 1

Napoleon stared at the dog and the dog defiantly stared back at him. It was sitting atop the sofa in Waverly’s office, unmoving or perhaps challenging was the better word?

He was called Asta, so named after the wire-haired terrier in the ‘Thin Man’ movie series from the 1930’s and 40’s and chronicled the adventures of Nick and Nora Charles...and their dog.

Solo recalled those films, with Myrna Loy as Nora and William Powell as Nick Charles who was a martini-swilling, wise cracking detective...based upon the writing of Dashiell Hammett.

They were portrayed as high society people and Asta their dog was a high-society pup who seemed to be able to find dead bodies and sniff out guns hidden in drain pipes.  The movies were light-hearted and enjoyable as there was great chemistry between all the stars, including Skippy who played the role of Asta.

But this Asta, the one who was staring Napoleon down at the moment was anything like the silver screen dog, that one was prone to hiding under beds with his paws over his eyes when the going got rough.

No, this dog was formidable, he could just tell and it was a good thing Illya wasn’t here at the moment as the creature would probably go for the Russian, sensing his fear of canines.

Napoleon had yet to meet Asta’s owners who were close friends of Alexander Waverly’s and as the doors opened to the conference room where Solo and the dog waited, Waverly and his friends entered.

Napoleon’s jaw dropped as he saw the couple...they were the spitting image of Myrna Loy and William Powell, and as soon as the dog spotted them he barked, running to them, wagging its stub of a tail and leaping up and down at their feet.

“Oh Asta behave! Remember we’re guests here,” the woman said. Her voice reeked of culture, and lofty manners.

“Ah yes Mr. Solo, good of you to be here on time,” Waverly spoke.” May I introduce Mr. and Mrs Charles.”

“Charles? As in Nick and Nora Charles...”

“The one and only,” Nick extending his hand in greeting.

“Beg pardon, correct me if I’m wrong,  but aren’t you William Powell who starred in the Thin Man series?”

“Well of course I am my good man, but that’s my screen name. In real life I’m Nick Charles. Now I know that’s confusing as I’m sure you probably thought that Nick and Nora Charles were created by Hammett, but in reality he based his characters on my wife and myself, and Asta too.  Who I see you’ve met, though this isn’t the original Asta.  Dearest, what is he the third?”

“Darling, I don’t have time to keep track of such trivialities,” Nora held out her hand, and Napoleon quickly took it and kissed it.

“Ahhh, it’s nice to see Alexander that you employ true gentlemen.”

Waverly cleared his throat, “Well yes for the most part.”

“So let me get this straight,” Napoleon grinned. You portrayed yourselves in your Thin Man movies, and you’re not really Myrna Loy and William Powell.”

“Well we are really Myrna and Bill too,” Nora said. “That’s what we’re known by in Hollywood. Nick though in reality is retired from his private eye days which were long ago. Mr. Hammett hired me for a job and was inspired to write about my adventures. Since Nora and I had already established ourselves as actors in Hollywood, it was simple for us to step into the roles as ourselves. Now we a performing much less, goodness Nick what was your last role?

“Oh that movie with Hank Fonda and Cagney... Mister Roberts. I had difficulty remembering my lines, plus I was having bouts of illness, and the shoot in Hawaii was tough. That’s when I decided it was time to retire. I tell you there was never a dull moment on set when it came to the director John Ford and Fonda, who never saw eye to eye. Ford actually slugged him in the jaw! Yes sir, what a dilly of a film that was!” Nick cracked wise. “Ford left the film after that, never worked with Fonda again. Mervyn LeRoy and later Joshua Logan took over as directors, but in the end Ford was given screen credit as well. Now Alex, what about those drinks you promised.

“If I may impose Mr. Solo if you could be so good as to make a round of martini’s ...gin please?” Waverly asked.

Napoleon dutifully welt to the liquor cabinet and did as requested and had the drinks made in a few minutes. He poured a scotch on the rocks for himself as he wasn't a fan of gin.

“This is all very fascinating but may I ask is this a social visit Mr. and Mrs. Charles? I have a funny feeling it isn’t.” He handed them their drinks.

“Nick and Nora if you please? And to answer your question, not quite.”

Solo’s eyebrows rose only in mild surprise.

“We’ve asked Alex to help us solve a mystery...you see Asta found a gun this morning beneath the stoop of our brownstone here in New York, and not a block away a body was found, a publishing acquaintance of ours,” Nora said as she sipped her martini. “We’re not quite sure how to go about it? If we get the police involved then our secret lives would be revealed, and we’re not up to that sort of hoopla any longer. Here in New York we’re out of the limelight and can live very happily. Back in Palm Springs we have to live a lie and apart from each other,” Nora sighed.

“Now this is where you come in Mr. Solo,” Waverly said.”You’ll be teaming up with Asta, as the dog has excellent instincts, and  nose.”

Napoleon cast a sly glance at his boss. He had a feeling this assignment was going to be like and old fashioned murder mystery, and he was sure Illya, who was on assignment in Sumatra, would never believe this one.

He looked at the dog again, who growled at him this time…

“Peachy,” Solo said under his breath.

 

To be continued

 


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon wasn’t exactly thrilled about having a dog as his partner, and didn’t quite understand the need for having the beast in tow.  He worked fine on his own, and could manage even without Illya, much less a canine. It's not that he disliked dogs, unlike Illya, but a dog was a pet, a companion...not a detective.

Still it was what the Old Man wanted, and that as they say was that.

He snickered for a moment as he walked along the corridors at headquarters, heading to his office to think things over.  This assignment was going to need a game plan, and not one of his flying by the seat of his pants strategies either.  

The idea of solving a murder mystery and not having to deal with the likes of T.H.R.U.S.H. he found rather intriguing...well at least he assumed the feathered fiends wouldn’t be part of this scenario; how far fetched was that?

He was lost in thought until one of the ladies from the secretarial pool greeted him.

“Hi Napoleon,” Rita Helmsley smiled at him. “Who’s your little friend?”

“Friend?”

“The dog Napoleon. There’s a dog following right behind you.”  
  
He turned, and as soon as he made eye contact with Asta, she sat down, as if waiting patiently. At first he was taken aback, as he never even heard the beast behind him; there should have been the clicking of her nails on the linoleum floor, but there was no sound what so ever.

“A stealthy dog, who would have thought?” Solo mused to himself. “Oh, it belongs to friends of Mr. Waverly and I’ve umm, gotten roped into a little dog sitting.”

“That’s rather odd for the number one field agent in UNCLE, don’t you think? Must be a pretty valuable dog I guess.”

“Yes and yes, now if you’ll excuse me Rita...we’ll talk later,” he winked before proceeding to his office.

Asta followed him in and promptly hopped up onto Illya’s chair.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Napoleon warned.” My friend wouldn’t take kindly to you sitting there as he doesn’t like dogs and dogs generally don't like him.

Asta growled.

“Now let’s get something straight here. There will be no growling, no chewing of any of my belongings, no sitting on the furniture, or answering Nature's call in an inappropriate location, or I’ll report to Nick and Nora that you’ve been a very bad and unhelpful little doggie. Capisce?”

Asta yawned

“Am I boring you?”

The dog whined.

“Now pay attention, I’m the ugh, senior agent here, and you’ll listen to me or I’ll lock you up in the closet, or better still I’ll find the most annoying person in headquarters to doggie sit you and you won’t get to go on this assignment with me.”

The dog immediately hopped down from the chair, standing at first and staring at him. She finally sat down, raised her front paws and begged, followed by dropping to the floor and rolling over a few times before sitting up again.

Napoleon chuckled. “Okay, but have a little pride dog...I mean Asta. You are supposed to be a high society dog after all."

He sat in his desk chair with a sigh, holding his head in his hand.  
  
“I can’t believe I’m talking to a dog. This is ridiculous, what good will…?”

Stopping himself, Napoleon questioned the point in worrying about it? Waverly hath spoken; the dog was working with him whether he liked it or not.

“Okay, let’s see what you can do? How about a little test?” He looked around, thinking for a second. The dog was supposed to be good at finding weapons.

“Hmmm, Asta go find the guns in this room.”  

There were exactly three, his own in its shoulder holster and a back up pistol in his desk drawer, and presumably Illya’s pack up snub nose was in his desk drawer, as Kuryakin wouldn’t need it on his assignment.

Illya had gotten a courier assignment, traveling to pick up some paperwork, that was it. Just a milk run, but the locale with all those lovely native beauties would be wasted on the cold blooded Russian. He’d be in a rush to get out of there because of the warm temperatures and get right back on a plane with his courier pouch...to fly to Finland.

That was the type of location that Illya seemed to prefer.

Napoleon grinned, reminding himself there were plenty of beautiful women there to snuggle with, though he doubted Illya would do that either.  Him and his ‘getting to know a girl before he went to bed with her attitude’ made the mad Russian miss out on a lot.    


Napoleon shook himself of his musings and watched with fascination as the dog began to circle the room, stopping first beside Illya’s desk.  Asta nosed at the lower right drawer and sat with a soft yip.

Solo opened the drawer; there was Illya’s pistol. No surprise. He knew his partner had left it behind, as he wouldn't need it on his current assignment.

“Well that’s not the only one, I said find the guns Asta, not gun.”

The dog sniffed the air for a moment, and headed over to Napoleon’s desk, doing the same thing...nosing the lower right drawer, sitting and giving another bark.

Just for confirmation, Napoleon took out the pistol and held it up to show her. “Okay that’s two, you have to keep going.”

Without warning Asta jump up, pushing Napoleon backwards with her front paws. He fell into his chair and she repeated her sitting and barking routine.

Solo drew his Special from his holster and held it up.

“Good dog, three out of three. I’m impressed.”

Asta woofed, spinning in place as if she were happy but stopped and sniffed the air again. This time she headed to the closet.

She nosed the door, sat and barked, staring at it.

“Oh no, no gun in there kiddo,” Napoleon laughed. “And here I thought you were that good.”

Asta barked again, this time with a bit more urgency.

“Okay okay, I’ll prove to you there’s nothing there but a couple of suitcases and trench coats.

“Woof!”

Napoleon opened the door, letting the dog check  out the closet. She sniffed and nudged Illya’s suitcase.

Solo scratched his head, wondering for a second that Illya was holding out on him.  He opened the valise and there nestled among Kuryakin’s clothing were a half dozen magazines, and not the kind you read, these held live rounds, not sleep darts. His partner had a nice little stash for himself.

Given the armory was a bit controlling with what they issued to agents, Illya must have been squirreling away his extra ammo.  Smart Russian.

“So I’m guessing it’s not the gun you’re sniffing out but the gun powder. Even a gun without any rounds will smell of it as long as it’s been fired. Clever dog.”

He gave Asta a good scratch. This time there was no growl, and Napoleon assumed the dog had finally accepted the pecking order here.

He reminded himself to pick up some dog biscuits.

“Okay dog, then let’s get to work,” Solo winked. He grabbed his black trench coat, draping it over his arm, and a fedora that sat on the top shelf.

If he was going to investigate a murder mystery, he might as well look the part of a detective.

“Let’s go Asta.” His first step was to head to the city morgue and talk to the Medical Examiner about the dead publisher. Nick and Nora told him the man’s name was Ferris Worthington, of Worthington Publications. They specialized in crime novels, though they didn’t have any of the big names among their clients.  Theirs were the writer wanna be’s, the second and thirds stringers.

Asta woofed her response to him, and trotted out the door right behind him.

  
Napoleon started whistling the melody to ‘Me and my Shadow…’


	3. Chapter 3

After exiting Del Floria’s with Asta now hooked to a leather leash, Napoleon put on his hat and trenchcoat as it had started to rain.

It was light mist, not heavy at all at the moment but at any second that could change. He would have walked the mile and a half to the Medical Examiner’s office but now a taxi would have to do.

Asta being a city dog, squatted in the street next to the curb to do her piddle and that was that.

“Good pup,” he gave her a pat on the head and whistled for a taxi.

A checkered cab pulled up almost immediately, and as he opened the rear door, he suddenly looked at the dog.

“Can I let her in?”

“Yeah sure. Hey Mister,” the driver tossed him a white hand towel.” Just wipe off the paws before you let him on the seat.

“Fair enough,” Napoleon bent over, wiping Asta’s front paws and as she stepped in, he took care of the back ones. This was obviously a routine to which she was accustomed.

When they were settled and the door closed, Napoleon gave the address.

“421 E 26th St, New York, NY 10016”

“Hey ain’t that the city morgue?”

“Let’s just say the Medical Examiner’s office.”

“Yeah and the morgue is there too buddy. Place gave me the creeps; I had to go identify one of our drivers who died on the job. The idea of all them bodies down there in them refrigerators…”

“I understand, still no different than a cemetery?” Napoleon said.

“Oh no it ain’t. There ain’t no six feet a dirt between me and them bodies. Did you ever see that movie ‘The night of the living dead?”

Napoleon cringed at the reminder and understood how the fellow was feeling now.

_It had been several years ago when THRUSH initiated one of their most devastating plans to subjugate the world. He recalled his and Illya’s experiences when an electromagnetic pulse had been generated by them affecting numerous major cities, along with the major detonation of an explosive device in Moscow._

_There was no great mushroom cloud in the sky, indicating it wasn’t nuclear in nature, as that would have made the targets unlivable for decades. T.H.R.U.S.H. wanted subjugation, not annihilation._

_The explosion was massive, filling the sky with a black acrid smoke that lasted for days, hanging over the city like a dark shroud. What they used was powerful enough to create just enough devastation. Yet the purpose to their madness was to infect portions of the population with a complicated chemical formula released when the bomb exploded that would expose many in the cities that had been targeted to it’s bizarre effects and that was to turn the survivors into man-made zombies.  It was a rather horrifying and bizarre experience… *_

Napoleon merely nodded to the driver at this point, as he wasn’t going to try to convince the man otherwise about the morgue.

Having arrived at the destination, Napoleon paid the fare and made his way upstairs. After knocking on the frosted glass door emblazoned with gold letters ‘Medical Examiner’s Office,’ a voice called out to him.

“Come in.”

It sounded like Illya, but no way it could be him. Yet as Solo entered, a familiar blond- haired man stood in front of him wearing a white lab coat.

“Doctor Mallard?” He blurted out.

“Why Mr. Solo, good to see you again dear boy! And please call me Ducky.” He extended his hand to the UNCLE agent.

The two shook hands,” Please...Napoleon.”

What, may I ask are you doing here Ducky? I thought you were serving with the East Africa Corp in the Sudan.”

“I was, but just as the last time when we first met, I’m on holiday and was called by my friend Dr. Piccard, who is the M.E. here, to lend a hand.  You see his wife is giving birth and it’s something he didn’t want to miss, so I’m standing in for him during the joyous event. Mind you I don’t want to spend my entire holiday here, just a day or two is fine though. And how is dear Illya?”

“He’s fine, off on assignment I’m afraid. I’ll let him know you’re here though, just in case he gets back before you leave.”

“Actually Illya and I have been corresponding, just little notes mind you, and nothing to compromise security. I knew he would be out of town during my visit, still it would be nice to see him again. Now, what can I do to help you?  Some evil doer here at the morgue perhaps?”

“Oh, corresponding? I wasn’t aware of that, but as you know Illya...he doesn’t tell me everything he’s up to. Now as to the reason why I’m here; it’s regarding a recent murder victim, a Percy Pennyfeather formerly with the Pennyfeather Publishing company.”

Ducky finally took notice of the dog who was sitting quietly at Solo’s feet.

“Why allo allo, and who might I ask is this little fellow?” Ducky pointed to the dog.

“This is Asta, and he’s a she.”

“Well hello Asta,” Ducky squatted down, offering his hand to the dog, who promptly gave him her paw.” Napoleon’s nose, of course, crinkled in annoyance as the dog immediately accepted Mallard.

“I recall that was the name of the dog and the same breed from those old ‘Thin Man’ films, quite amusing. Myrna Loy and William Powell as I recall, the…” Ducky began to ramble.

“Exactly,” Solo interrupted.” I can’t give you any details other than the fact that Mr. Pennyfeather is an acquaintance of ummm, Miss Loy and Mr. Powell. The gentleman in question was found not far from where they were umm...staying. The dog belongs to them and found a pistol near the stairs of their brownstone. ( he suddenly realized he’s slipped by saying that)  I need to find out the cause of death and if the gun is related to it. We’re testing the pistol now in our labs.”

“Oh,”Ducky caught on immediately.” I was unaware they were a couple, though the films left many’s the viewer thinking they were.”

“Well, it’s a long story and for another time perhaps. As to them being a couple, that is not for public consumption,” he winked,” you do understand?”

“I do. Loose lips sink ships and all that,” Mallard made a zipping motion across his lips.

“Has the autopsy been performed on Mr. Pennyfeather?”

“No, as a matter of fact I was going to perform it myself as Dr. Picard is a little behind in his work. They’re a bit short handed here as well.”

“Napoleon would you care to join me in the autopsy suite? I could use some able assistance.”

Though not pleased about attending an autopsy, Napoleon was no stranger to them. If his assisting could help solve this case then it was fine by him.

He followed Ducky through a door to a tiled room with several stainless steel medical tables, and trays containing surgical instruments. Above the tables were rather large lamps to illuminate the work being done. Nearby was a scale used to weigh various body parts.

There were Striker saws for ripping bone, suturing materials, saws, knives, scalpels, everything needed to carefully examine a body. There was a nearby sink as a source of water to wash the body parts free of blood and other fluids. Such fluids were washed down a drain to a special holding tank.

There was an X-ray machine located there as well.

A chair was set to the side for a stenographer to take detailed notes of the autopsy, though that wasn’t going to happen as Ducky had said, they were short handed here.  He had his own methods of taking notes, plus using the standard graph of the human body to make any indications as needed should suffice.

“Perhaps you could assist with taking notes for me Napoleon?”

“Ducky, with my chicken scratch handwriting, it would probably do you more harm than good.”

“Oh, well then, I’ll manage. Now let’s see, where is that clipboard? Ah yes here it is.” He picked it up from a nearby desk cluttered with papers.  

Looking down the list, he found what he was looking for. “Ah yes, number twenty five, Pennyfeather-Percy. A gunshot wound is indicated, and most likely a homicide...but that remains to be seen.”

Ducky took hold of the drawer and pulled it open, but to his surprise there was no body laying there.”

“Oh dear, it seems Mr. Pennyfeather has been mislaid.

He and Napoleon opened each drawer, checking each male corpse’s toe tag but none of them matched.  

“Something stinks,” Napoleon grumbled,”and it isn’t the dead bodies.” He opened drawer number twenty-five all the way this time, and there he found the sheet and the toe tag with Pennyfeather’s named on it stuffed in the very back.

“This is most distressing, a body disappearing on my watch isn’t a good thing,” Ducky bemoaned.

Napoleon held up the sheet, looking at the dog.

“Asta, here girl.” He held the white cloth for the dog to get a good sniff. “Okay girl, find our missing body.”

“Napoleon, I doubt if Mr. Pennyfeather up and walked out of here on his own, he had to have been wheeled out on a gurney so there will be no scent for her to find. Best we speak to the night watchman.”

“Trust me Ducky, this dog has a very talented schnozz,” Solo winked.

Asta gave the sheet a good long sniff, followed by a sharp ‘yip’.  She lowered her nose to the floor, obviously following a scent.

Finally she headed to the door, and gave a loud ‘woof!’ That was his cue, and Napoleon saluted his farewell to Ducky.

“I’m off. Good to see you!” He said as he opened the door, preparing to follow Asta whose nails were tapping feverishly as she scrambled to gain traction on the cold linoleum floor.

“You will let me know if you find the body Napoleon?” Ducky called out after the agent, but he was already gone. Asta was hot on the trail.

The word _‘zombie’_ crossed Solo’s mind for a brief second.

“Nah,” he muttered to himself. “Wait, what if THRUSH was up to no good again with that chemical compound of theirs? Hold on Asta.”  

Napoleon led the dog back to Ducky.

“I think you need to seal off autopsy. I’m going to have a team come over from our labs to check it and us for any sort of contamination.“Contamination you say? From what?”

Napoleon sighed, “That’s an even longer story. Do you recall a few years ago when people exposed to a THRUSH compound became Zombies? It affected only a few of the major cities in Europe.”

“Yes I was briefed on that, though it was my understanding that UNCLE and the United Nations solved that dilemma. I was privy to the information only because of my position with the military.”

“Well… “

“Good grief man, you think it’s that again? Wait, that original chemical compound affected the living, not the dead as I recall.”

“It might be a variation on the theme Doc.”

“If that’s the case why haven’t the other corpses in the morgue gotten up and walked off as well?”

“Good question Ducky,” Napoleon shrugged.

.

* ref.[ “It’s the end of the world as we know it”   ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5049916)


	4. Chapter 4

The team arrived, changing to hazmat suits before they examined the morgue, checking out Solo and Dr. Mallard as well.

Much to everyone’s relief there were no signs of a chemical agent.

“Mr. Solo, “ Agent Dominguez said.”Everything is clean as a whistle and surprisingly sterile.”

“That’s thanks to me,” Ducky announced.” I gave the facilities a once over as soon I volunteered to cover for Doctor Picard.” 

Napoleon’s communicator warbling, interrupted the conversation.

“Solo here,” he answered after quickly assembling the device. 

“Your report please?” Waverly asked. 

“The lab, myself and Dr. Mallard are clean. No sign of chemical contamination.” 

After harrumphing, the Old Man had an announcement of his own.” 

“It seems the missing corpse has been located...in the East River, right off the FDR Drive in the vicinity of East 36th Street. Here is the conundrum however, Mr. Pennyfeather was drowned within the last three hours, that's as per our coroner, Dr. Woodfield. Mr. and Mrs. Charles identified the body for us as well.

“What?” Napoleon was at a loss on this one.

“You heard me young man. Quite a mystery I must say as there was no gunshot wound on the body.” 

“Thank you sir, Solo out.” He disassembled the communicator and tucked it into his breast pocket before turning to Dr. Mallard. 

“So we have a missing corpse apparently dead of a gunshot wound who gets up and walks out of the morgue and is found drowned in the East River with a time of death approximately three hours ago. No sign of a gunshot wound I might add.” 

“I heard. Napoleon, I do not envy you your task and am grateful that I am only here for another day, I doubt I can be of much further assistance to you. Please, do let me know the outcome of this mystery, if you don’t mind?” 

“Will do Ducky,” they shook hands again, and Napoleon, riding on a hunch, let Asta sniff the sheet once more. She let out a yip, pulling on her leash as she was hot on the trail.  

Twenty minutes later Asta stopped in front of a small haberdashery that was downtown, completely in the opposite direction from where the body had been found.

Napoleon ducked into an alleyway, calling headquarters again.

“Yes Mr. Solo?” Waverly answered.

“What was Pennyfeather wearing when he was found?”

“Just a moment…”

Napoleon could hear the rustling of papers as the Old Man finally responded.

“He was clothed in a brown double breasted suit. Why may I ask.”

“Not sure yet sir. Was there a label for Willoughby’s Haberdasher inside the jacket sir?”

Paper’s rustled before the answer came. “Why yes Mr. Solo that’s correct.” 

“Thank you sir, I’ll be in touch. Solo out. 

He wrapped the dog’s leash around a nearby tree, part of the ongoing beautification program for the city.  

“Sorry Asta, I don’t think you’re allowed inside, but don’t worry I won’t be long.”

The dog gave a little whine as she laid down beside the hydrant.

Napoleon looked down at her soulful brown eyes and sighed.

Illya could do that to him with one just look and now here he had a dog doing the same thing.   

“Hmmm, all right you can come in. I’ll figure out something.”

 A little bell tinkled as he opened the door to the business, not unlike the familiar brass bell at Del Floria’s.

“Good afternoon sir,” a well dressed clerk greeted him, but then he noticed the dog. “I’m sorry sir but we don’t allow pets in this establishment.”

“Oh my good man,” Napoleon affected a snooty air,”This canine isn’t a pet, don’t you recognize her...she’s a star. My name is Hammett and this is my dog Asta.”

“Hammett, as in Dashiell Hammett? “ The man instantly made the connection.”I just adore your Nick and Nora Charles characters, though I don’t think the films did them complete justice.”

“The one and the same, sir. Now I’m looking for something in a double breasted suit in brown. My friend came in recently and purchased one and he looked positively smashing in it. Perhaps you remember him, Percy Pennyfeather of the Pennyfeather Publishing Company. He picked it up very recently.

The man’s eyes gave himself away, and there was a definite look of concern in his eyes.

Napoleon felt Asta give a determined tug on her leash and figured something was up. He let go of her and let her wander while continuing to  engage the clerk, keeping him occupied. 

“Your name my good man, what’s your name. After all I introduced myself to you.”

“My apologies sir, Walter Droney sir.”

“Well Mr. Droney what about that suit. When did Percy order it?”

 “Umm, I don’t recall. I’d have to look that information up. It might take a while.”

 “I have time,” Napoleon smiled. It was his turn to give the man a look, one not too threatening, but one of determination. He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

 Droney stammered as he reached beneath the counter….”Let me me check my ummm order book.”

It was at that moment Asta sprang to life, diving at Droney and grabbing the man by the wrist, shaking it until he released the gun he’d picked up.

Napoleon grabbed him by the lapels, “Okay Asta you can let him go now.

She obeyed instantly, and immediately sat while not taking her eyes of Droney for a split second.  She added a growl for good measure.

“Now what’s the scoop buddy,” Napoleon demanded. “All right all right, sorry I thought you were going to rob me or something. I guessed you weren't the real Hammett.  Pennyfeather was here the other day. He ordered the suit a week ago and just picked it up last night."

“Last night you say?” Napoleon canted his head to the side.

“Yes sir, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

“I have a feeling you’re not telling me everything Mr. Droney. Time to do something about it.” Napoleon finally drew out his weapon and aimed it at the man. 

Droney seemed to shrivel in terror. “Please Mr. Hammett don’t shoot me. I was sworn to secrecy. He paid me a thousand dollars and said if I told anyone that I’d have to pay the money back at a hundred percent interest and then he might let me live.” 

“Tell you what, I think it’s time for you to close up for the day and come with me.” Napoleon put away his gun. “Asta, make sure he doesn’t try to pull a fast one.” 

He pulled his communicator and assembled it. “Open Channel D- Solo.” 

“Channel D.”

“I need a car post haste to Willoughby’s Haberdasher.”  He gave them the address. 

“We’re going to take a little drive Mr. Droney to my own place of business where we’ll continue our discussion.” 

After flipping the closed sign over on the door, Napoleon and the dog escorted the man out to the sidewalk.  An UNCLE car arrived seconds later. 

Asta hopped into the back seat first, followed by Droney and lastly Solo. 

“Headquarters and pronto,” he told the driver. 

“Yes sir Mr. Solo.” 

“That's your real name?: Droney asked.

“ Napoleon Solo and I’m with the U.N.C.L.E.”

“Uncle? Who’s the uncle….you some sort of mobster?”

“No, far from that. It’s the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.” 

“So you’re a cop?”

“Sort of…” 

They arrived at headquarters with Solo bringing him through the entrance at Del Floria’s. Droney and after receiving hi security badge was  taken immediately to the Medical suite, specifically to UNCLE’s own autopsy. 

There the body of Percy Pennyfeather was laid out on a stainless steel table, covered for the moment by a white sheet. 

“We want you to identify Mr. Pennyfeather’s body. Is this the same man who purchased that double breasted suit from you?”

The medical assistant lifted the sheet, showing only the face. It was obvious that Droney had never seen a body fished from a river before.

He tried not to gag at first. “Yeah that’s him all right.”  

As the assistant lifted the sheet further, that’s when Droney lost it, puking into a nearby trash receptacle. 

The UNCLE Coroner walked into the room, a Doctor Hennessey, who merely nodded to Solo. 

“You all right?” Napoleon asked Droney, handing the man a towel to wipe his mouth.

“Mr. Solo, that’s not Mr. Pennyfeather. The face is the same but his chest….well that’s not the same man I fitted for that suit.”

“How’s that?”

“This man has a big scar across chest, Mr. Pennyfeather didn’t. You see I fitted him for a new shirt as well so I saw him in a state of undress, so to speak.

Napoleon glanced at the body. The scar Droney was speaking of wasn’t new at all.

“Hmmm, the mystery deepens,” he muttered. “Doctor Hennessy, could that have been the result of the body being in the water? Let’s face it the East River is pretty busy. And it was definitely drowning?” 

“Yes, but the scar is indeed an older one. There were no outward signs of injury, and after autopsy, the results showed he was in good health, with no chemicals in his body.  I looked for signs of haemorrhaging blood in the lungs, as well as any remnants of the surroundings in which the deceased was found. It definitely was death by drowning. Now salt water does make it make it difficult to determine time of death as the body will have been exposed to many changes in the surrounding temperature, pH and salt content and these factors make determination of the time of death a difficult process. Since he wasn’t in the water that long, I was able to determine that he was three hours, though give our take a few minutes, it might have been slightly less. 

Mr. Droney was taken to Security where he was deprogrammed, before being returned to his shop. He would have no memory of having been brought to UNCLE, nor would he know Solo. 

Napoleon headed up to Waverly’s office where Nick and Nora Charles were seated at the conference table, each with a cocktail in front of them. He wondered if their characters they played on the silver screen being heavy drinkers wasn’t a bit of art imitating life when it came to these two. 

After Asta’s happy reunion with her humans Napoleon got down to brass tacks, filling them and Waverly in on his findings.

“I’m at a loss on this one sir. A corpse apparently killed by a gunshot wounds gets up and walks out of the city morgue, goes to a haberdasher to pick up a suit he’d ordered but a week ago. He’s found drowned in the East River, but only dead three hours.  Here’s the kicker, a Mr. Droney the owner of the haberdashery initially confirmed the identity of the deceased...however the body had a substantial pre-existing scar across his chest while Droney insists the man he fitted for the same suit the deceased was found wearing did not have any such scar.

“That indeed is perplexing Mr. Solo, “ Waverly sipped a glass of his Aquitaine.” Nick, what do you make of all this?”

“Good question old fellow. Nora darling didn’t Percy have a brother?”

“Yes. Now what was his name?” She downed the rest of her martini. “Pennington, that was it. Pennington Pennyfeather III. I do recall he was passed over by his father for the control of the publishing company and it was given to Percy. He’s a bit of a playboy, and has been whittling away the trust fund the grandfather set up for him. He has a little place in the Hamptons as I recall.”

"Good heavens," Nick laughed."Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers; a peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked;  
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?"

"Precisely dear fellow," Waverly chuckled

Without being asked Napoleon went over to the Old Man's private bar and made up another batch of martini’s for the Charles’ and poured another libation for his boss, but nothing for himself.

“I think sir I need to track down this Pennington fellow as I think I have some questions to ask him.”

“Would you like Asta to join you again, I take it she’s been of some help, weren’t you girl?” Nick slipped her a doggie biscuit from his pocked.

“As a matter of fact, I would sir if you don’t mind?”

“Splendid then. Off you go Asta and listen to Mr. Solo like a good girl.”

_“Woof!”_


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Napoleon gathered up the dog and departed New York for the Hamptons, driving in the silver Impala convertible with the red interior. The day was gorgeous, perfect weather to ride with the top down, something Asta seemed to appreciate.

He’d gotten Pennington Pennyfeather’s address from Section IV and was heading out to the Hamptons to see if he could make sense of all this.

 The address was...familiar. Napoleon snapped his fingers as he suddenly remembered the home, overlooking Long Island Sound.

He’d been there once before...It had been the party of the season given by the nouveau riche, politically connected, and almost famous celebrating the return of the warmer weather to the Hamptons. 

_The rather sizeable home, painted in pastel yellow and white, replete with palm trees looked very much like it belonged in the Caribbean, rather than Long Island._

_Waiters and waitresses dressed in black and white uniforms carrying trays of food and drink, weaving among the guests barely noticeable to the party goers._

_A big band performed in the great room while many of the formally attired men lounged outside by the pool. Eating, drinking and chatting about stocks and bonds while smoking illegal Cuban cigars; they left their wives, daughters and girlfriends to their own devices...shimmying and swaying to the music inside the mansion. It was enticing, a lively cha-cha, then a rumba to a merengue._

_He was there not for an assignment but to fulfill a family obligation, which was to represent the Solo clan among the ‘chosen’ whenever his parents were traveling, as they were often seemed to do this time of year._

_So it was up to the eldest son of Darius Solo to represent the family at the event. If Napoleon didn’t show up, there’d be hell to pay. Fortunately he’d requested the weekend off, so there’s be no assignment to complicate matters._

_It really wasn’t that bad, just mingling, drinking champagne, eating lots of sumptuous hors d'oeuvres, and of course flirting with scads of lovely ladies._

_As usual his libido was leading the dance and he was sizing up a few damsels that he might be a little more ‘intimate with’ come the end of the evening._

_Eventually he zeroed in on a shapely blonde dressed in dressed in tight fitting white gown adorned in sparkling iridescent beads carefully sewn onto it._

_She looked as though she’d been poured into the low cut dress, and her cleavage offered possibilities of what might be to a man like Napoleon Solo._

_One thing led to another and he finally found himself doing a horizontal mambo with her in a guest cottage that could have housed a large family quite comfortably._

_In the middle of their wanton passion, the woman’s husband Vito showed up. The fact that she was married was a little tidbit she failed to reveal to him, and Solo had to make a naked retreat to the balcony and down the trellis to escape._

_There wasn’t time to gather his clothes and get dressed...problem was he’d left his car keys in his tuxedo pocket, unlike the other guests who’d surrendered them to the valet._

_His wallet, gun and communicator were securely locked in the car glove compartment.  It was quite a dilemma until out of the night, Illya appeared to rescue him….how he knew to be there was purely gut instinct._

Napoleon smiled as he recalled that misadventure, and come to think of it Illya still hadn’t taken his pound of flesh...or as he said an ‘ounce’ at a time as payment for said rescue. •

This seemed rather serendipitous having been to Pennington Pennyfeather’s estate, though it was at least three or four years ago. Who would have thought he’d be back again but this time to solve a murder?

Napoleon drove through the gates along the circular gravel driveway leading up to the still yellow house.  He got out of the car with Asta at his side though she was leashed at the moment, though she pulled away from him and headed to the reflecting pool in front of the house. 

There she took a quick drink, and stopped to pee.

“Good girl. Now keep that nose of yours on high alert," Napoleon patted her as she returned to his side. He took up her leash again and together they ascended the stairs to the front entrance of the house.

He rang the doorbell, and it was quickly answered by a tuxedo wearing butler.

“Yes sir?”

“My name is Napoleon Solo and I’m here to speak with Pennington Pennyfeather.” He handed the man his business card.

The butler glanced at the dog, but said nothing.

“If you’ll follow me sir. You may await the Master in the drawing room.”

Napoleon followed, though he knew the way already.  It had been redones since he’d last seen it, now tastefully in white with splashes of blue in the pillows on the sofas that were facing each other, and prints on the wall framed in black.

Napoleon stood, waiting for Pennington and glanced out one of several windows that overlooked the property. The infamous guest cottage from his previous adventure here was well within view, and he observed a dark haired woman standing out on the balcony, looking back at him before she disappeared inside.

 

 

 

“Ahhh, Mr. Solo,” Pennington entered the room with a bit of a flourish. He was dressed in tennis whites with his sweater sleeves strategically wrapped around his neck, letting the rest of the garment drape down like a little cape over his shoulders. The man was a dead...well, a ringer for Percy.

He offered a limp-wristed greeting. “Have we had the pleasure of meeting before? Are you of the Hampton Solo’s?”

“Bingo,” Napoleon thought, he was afraid of that and thought it was best not to admit his family was here.

“No I’m afraid not.”

“No loss I suppose;  they rarely make appearances at the seasonal soirees. The head of the family is a retired Army Colonel, and quite a boor, though is wife is lovely...I think. I suppose it’s good they’re always galavanting around the world. I must say Mr. Solo you do look quite familiar to me.”

It was a relief the man didn’t recall him being at any of the summer parties on the Island, though Napoleon had not attended that many of them over the years. He needed to keep his identity on the down low.

Pennington finally noticed the dog sitting quietly at Napoleon’s feet.

“And who might I ask is your canine companion?”

“This is Asta.  Asta this is Mr. Pennington Pennyfeather.”

The dog did nothing, not even a whine in reaction to the man.

“May I offer you a drink Mr. Solo, and water for the doggy? It is after all 5 o’clock somewhere?”

“Why yes, a drink would be lovely, a gin martini for me…” Asta finally whined.  “And one for my dog.”

“Yes perfect, gin martinis.”

Napoleon smiled.”I do have a friend who’ll argue quite vehemently in favor of vodka martinis.”

“Oh how dreadful, ever since those ridiculous spy movies came out people just have to order them that way, and shaken not stirred, how gauche.” Pennington laughed. “Now your dog has taste. How delightful!”  He rang the bell, summoning the butler to make their drinks.

Moments later the dark haired woman from the guest house walked into the room. “Penny darling, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

She too was dressed in white tennis togs.

“Yes dearest Pennylo. Napoleon Solo this is my half sister Penelope Pennyfeather….Penelope, Mr. Solo.

“Charmed I’m sure,” Napoleon took her hand and kissed it. “Pennylo?”

“Oh how Continental,”she tittered. “And what a wonderfully powerful name, Napoleon. Pennylo is just a nickname to differentiate Penny and myself.”

Several other men bounded into the room, all dressed for tennis, each of them a startling lookalike for Percy and Pennington.”

Seeing Napoleon’s eyes widen, Pennington quickly introduced them.

“These two hare my half-brothers Patric and Patrice. This gentleman dear brothers, is Mr. Napoleon Solo though he’s not of the Hampton Solos….and this is his dog Asta.”

“Asta, isn’t that the name of a character in those Dashiell Hammett stories?” Patric added.

“Yes as a matter of fact it is, she’s quite the clever dog too, and is able to suss out a mystery when confronted with one.” Napoleon responded. “You have an interesting naming custom with your family...does everyone’s name start with the letter ‘P’?”

“Yes,” Penelope answered,” It’s something that started with our great grandfather as I recall...though why he did it is a bit of  a mystery. Penny dear, do you know why great-grandfather came up with the idea?"

"No, though it does save on monogramming all the towels," Pennington chuckled to himself, quite amused at his little joke.

 

Asta didn’t respond to the latest family additions either and Napoleon was feeling concerned she was dropping the ball on him, so to speak. He watched as she lapped up the martini, and knowing her real gin-swilling owners, that didn't surprise him.

“That reminds me Mr. Solo, you never told me of the reason for your visit today?” Penny asked.

Solo put down his drink, preparing to take out his wallet, and show his gold U.N.C.L.E. ID card, but just as he reached to his inside pocket Asta began to growl.  She was staring at a man who had arrived and was now standing in the doorway to the drawing room.

“Don’t tell me, yet another half-brother?” Napoleon said. Like the others, the resemblance was uncanny.

 

 

 

* ref to ["Rescuing Napoleon...but not what you think."](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10301054/1/Rescuing-Napoleon-but-it-s-not-what-you-think)


	6. the conclusion

“Mr. Solo, let me introduce my cousin Paxton. Paxton our visitor … Napoleon Solo,”Penny oozed with sincerity. 

“He was just going to enlighten us as to why he is gracing us with his presence….weren’t you Mr. Solo?”

“Well yes,”Napoleon cringed ever so slightly.”May I ask one question though; is this all of your family?”

Penny let out another laugh. “Almost. There’s my brother Percivale, and two more cousins, Peyton who is here somewhere and then there’s Meredith,” his voice changed upon saying her name, and seemed to take on a tone of disdain at the mere mention of her name and he offered an explanation.

” Her mother was a difficult woman who insisted on breaking with the family naming tradition.”

“And where may I ask is Percivale?” Napoleon asked, not letting on that the man in question was probably dead.

“You want to know about our family Mr. Solo?” Pennylo asked, “yet we know nothing of you.”

The room suddenly darkened, as the sky had clouded over as a storm was blowing in off the bay. Rain pelted against the window panes. The change in the weather seemed to put everyone on edge.

“I guess that ruins our tennis match lovies,” Patrice announced.” Now you were asking about Percy Mr. Solo...why?”

“I repeat, do you know where he is?” Napoleon had a more demanding tone.

“Are you a policeman, is there a problem? Pennylo nervously asked.

“Of sorts.” He finally drew his ID card from his wallet. “I’m with an organization called the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.” He held out his card to Pennington.

“UNCLE?” He asked. “I’ve heard of that, though I have no idea where, nor do I know the whereabouts of my brother Percy. He’s usually in Manhattan somewhere, dealing with the family publishing business.” 

“Is that the same answer from the rest of you?” Napoleon asked.

The Pennyfeathers nodded their agreement. 

“Might I request the missing members, I believe you said Peyton and Meredith, to be summoned to the drawing room as I have an announcement to make,” Napoleon said.

“Oh very well, if you insist,” Pennington rang the bell for the butler, instructing him to find the others.

When they arrived, the introductions were made as a matter of course. Peyton, like the others possessed a chilling resemblance to his cousins and brother Paxton.  Meredith on the other hand was petite with reddish brown hair, lively blue eyes and in no way shape or form looked like she was related to the other members of the Pennyfeather family.

“Now I insist Mr. Solo, you reveal the reason for your visit,” Pennington was adamant.”

“Very well, I’m sorry to report that the body of your brother Percivale was found not long ago in the East River, right off the FDR Drive in the vicinity of East 36th Street.” He decided to leave out the information about the body of Percy supposedly being found shot, and disappearing from the city morgue.”

There was a decidedly loud clap of thunder augmenting Napoleon’s announcement which amused him, as it make him feel he was smack dab in the middle of mystery movie and right now the plot was thickening.

Everyone in the room with the exception of Solo, Asta and Meredith was startled by the sound.  She was the only one who appeared to genuinely cry at the news about  Percy, while the others seemed overly dramatic in their reactions.

“Methinks thou dost protest too much,” Napoleon mumbled.  “Now if everyone will please take a seat while I continue. 

Once they were all seated, he turned to the dog.

“Asta, do your thing please?” He undid her leash, and she immediately began to circle the room, sniffing furiously 

“What’s the beast doing?” Pennylo asked.

“Searching for evidence.”

“Evidence, what evidence? Surely you don’t think we had anything to do with Percy’s murder.”

“Murder?”Napoleon smiled.”Did I say the word murder? I merely said Percy’s body was found in the East River.”  

“Well I just assumed, him being found in the East River and all. It’s not like Percy was a man prone to suicidal thoughts.” She was obviously nervous.

“Point taken,” Napoleon nodded,” anyone else have a comment?”

Asta slowly walked from one person to another, finally stopping and sitting in front of Pennington.

_ “Woof!” _

“Good girl Asta,” he slipped her a dog biscuit from his pocket.

Pennington’s eyes widened as he rose. They were filled with fear and anger. “What, a dog is your witness I suppose?”

“Well yes and no…” 

Pennington reached behind himself and drew a gun hidden in the waist of his trousers. Napoleon dove for it and the two men wrestled to the floor sending furniture flying. 

Asta in the meantime held the others at bay growling and snapping to keep them from going to Pennington’s assistance. After all they’d helped murder Percy, and what was to stop them from doing the same to Napoleon.

The gun went flying from Pennington’s hand, sliding across the hardwood floor, coming to a stop in front of Meredith’s feet. She bent down, picking it up and at first aimed it, but stopped herself.  She instead fired the gun into the air and in shock, dropped it to the floor.

She stood there with her hands covering her mouth, trying not to scream.

The shot startled Pennington, and that brief pause gave Napoleon the opportunity to punch his adversary in the jaw, knocking him out.

Not only had Asta pegged Pennington for having a gun in his possession, she also recognized his scent from the sheet in the morgue… She picked up the gun from the floor and took it to Solo.

“Good girl Asta, really good girl!” He gave her a pat on the side, no time for biscuits.

Napoleon stood, drawing his own weapon and pointing it at the others. He reassured them Pennington was fine and ordered them to sit down and be quiet.

Asta sat in front of them, giving a periodic growl, to keep them in line. Her behavior reassured Solo none of them were armed.

Once they complied, Napoleon quickly lifted Penningtons shirt, and sure enough there was a bullet wound that had been treated and bandaged professionally.

Pulling his communicator pen, he called for backup to come pick up Pennyfeather family.

“Bring a very large van,” he advised the security team.

 

Once at headquarters and awake Pennington Pennyfeather started to sing like the proverbial canary, but only for so long.

He wanted the publishishing business for himself, and once the had control of it, Pennington planned to liquidate the assets.  He was listed as his brother’s sole heir, and that meant he’d get Percy’s house and all his worldly goods as well as stocks and bonds. It was worth countless millions.

The brothers had argued, a disagreement over Percy’s will, and It was Percy who shot Pennington.

When the body was found, the police mistakenly thought he was Percy and dead; they had him immediately sent on to the city morgue. Except Pennington wasn’t dead.

“That explained the body up and walking out of the morgue on Doctor Mallard,” Napoleon said. “Now after you left the morgue?

Pennington was shaking. “May I have a drink of water please?”

“Once you tell me what I want to know, then I’ll see to it you get a nice tall cool glass of water, capisce?”

The man cleared his throat.”I got some help with my wound and clothing.”

“Help? Just exactly who helped you?”

“I refuse to say.”

“Really? All right, we’ll get back to that. So after you were helped then what did you do?”

“I went home.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who brought you home?”

“All right, it was Paxton...he came in the town car.” That was all Pennington would admit. 

The interrogation stalled until Napoleon decided it was time to turn the screws, so to speak. Now to question Walter Droney again who had been kept in custody here at headquarters during the investigation...just in case.

Taking a page out of Kuryakin’s playbook when it came to interrogations, Napoleon realized he had to think like Illya and that meant lowering his voice, speaking sotto voce. He focused his eyes on the man,  imitating Illya’s blue eyed stare of death. His hazel eyes darken and it somehow it worked, and he glared at Droney.

“Don’t make me angry Walter, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry; my partner isn’t here to restrain me…”

After scaring the bejesus out of him, the truth was finally revealed.

Apparently the  brothers Pennyfeather had their heated argument in the vicinity of where the body had been found not far from the Charles’ home.. It was misidentified as Percivale, when in fact it was Pennington.  

It was indeed Percy who shot his brother and then tossed the gun near the brownstone and simply went on about his business as if nothing had happened, and that included eventually going to pick up his new brown suit at the haberdasher. 

Pennington knew this and after he up and left the morgue he enlisted Droney’s help in seeking revenge against his brother Percivale.

Percy was overpowered by them at the haberdashery, taken to the East River and drowned with the help of Patric, Patrice, Penelope, Paxton and Peyton. They all held a grudge against Percy for leaving them out of his will, but even more so now for trying to kill Pennington.  Pennington also promised them a 'piece of the pie' when the estate was settled.

Apparently every member of the family took turns at dunking Percy’s head  under the water until he was clearly dead, that was with exception of Meredith who was left in the dark as usual. 

Why her family disliked her, Napoleon could find no real reason other than the fact that her name was Meredith. None of this made a lot of sense but then almost an entire family participating in the murder of one of their members made no sense either.

Droney had lied when he saw the body of Percivale Pennyfeather in the UNCLE morgue, and did so in hopes of misdirecting any investigations away from himself. 

It seemed when all was said and done, Meredith Pennyfeather was going to be a very rich young lady, as she would have rights to not only Percy’s estate but to those of her cousins and siblings as none of them had any issue. They’d all be going up the river to SingSing for the rest of their lives.

Another unexpected twist; It seemed Percy had recently drawn up a second will, naming Meredith as his sole heir.

 

Napoleon walked into Waverly’s conference room accompanied by Asta, who immediately barked with joy at the sight of Nick and Nora. They were sitting down having a drink with Waverly, gin martini’s, no surprise there.

After the congratulations and a few more rounds of drinks the Charles’ prepared to wobble on their merry way as they were due to head back to Hollywood to work on more films under alter egos of Myrna Loy, and William Powell.

“I have to say my good man, I couldn’t have done better myself,” Nick announced. “Amazing, case solved and it didn’t even cut into my drinking.  Now my friends, if I may propose a little parting toast. Let us eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” 

**“** You can be so charming, Mr. Charles,” Nora said sarcastically.

“Why thank you, Mrs. Charles. Now let us be off my dear. Thanks for all the help Alex and the drinks. Napoleon it was indeed a pleasure. Come on Asta, time to go girl.”

“The pleasure was all mine sir.” Solo waited with his boss as a Security team arrived to escort the Charles’ from headquarters. Before the doors closed after them, Asta dashed back into the conference room straight to Napoleon, and he slipped her a biscuit from his pocket.

“Here you go girl...I owed you one. Good bye Asta, it was a pleasure working with you.”

**_“Woof!”_ **

Once alone, Waverly spoke up at last.

“Thank you Mr. Solo for solving this mystery so quickly. Though the Charles’ are good friends, they were honestly drinking me out of house and home so to speak, and mind you I can hold my own when it comes to imbibing, but they were indeed running me to ground.”

Napoleon eyes widened in surprise. “Your secret is safe with me sir,  and might I ask that we not say anything to Mr. Kuryakin about me being partnered with a dog?”

“Hmm, quite. Yes young man, mum’s the word,” Waverly flicked his bushy eyebrows.

"Now if you’ll excuse me sir, I’m going home to change,” Napoleon’s demeanor suddenly changed to that of shyness. “I have a dinner date with Meredith Pennyfeather, a thank you so to speak for helping.”

“Ahhh, Mr. Solo, you never cease to amaze.”It was Alexander Waverly’s turn to roll his eyes.


End file.
